Playing with Fire
by BelloftheSea
Summary: Roy should have known better than to leave Ed alone in his office. Ed should have known better than to play with fire.


**Playing with Fire**

Roy should have known better than to leave Ed alone in his office. Ed should have known better than to play with fire.

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**A.N. **This story takes place pre-series, sometime when Ed is about thirteen.

**Disclaimer:** Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

**Rating:** This story is rated T for language.

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At 1500 hours, the Fullmetal Alchemist arrived at Eastern Command, fully prepared to give his report and then retire to the dorms for some much needed sleep. He entered the offices of Colonel Mustang with all of his usual grace and charm, loudly announcing his presence to the team which was grateful for the interruption and glad that Lieutenant Hawkeye had stepped out for a few minutes. They cheerfully greeted their youngest comrade, welcoming news of his latest adventure and engaging in some good natured banter about his height – or lack thereof.

At 1507, Fullmetal's rant was interrupted by the return of Lieutenant Hawkeye who most efficiently ensured that the team returned to their tasks before greeting Major Elric with a smile and ushering him into Mustang's inner office.

At 1510, Edward Elric began his report on a mission to Giribaz which mostly consisted of helping whining townsfolk sort out petty problems but had also led to the discovery of an old alchemic journal which might hold some information on the Philosopher's Stone.

At 1512, the phone rang.

"Sir."

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"General Grumman has returned from Central Command. He wishes to see you immediately, Sir."

Mustang sighed. He had hoped to finish Fullmetal's report before the General arrived. Knowing Grumman, the old codger would have him in his office for several hours and likely coerce him into several games of chess. Not that he minded the break from paperwork. He simply didn't like the idea of leaving the young alchemist waiting for that long. The boy tended to cause trouble in the office when he lingered and Alphonse wasn't there to help keep the peace.

"Very well." He stood. "Fullmetal, you might as well go back to the dorms for now. You can finish your report tomorrow."

"What? No way. Tomorrow's my day off. Al wanted to catch the morning train to Resembool so we can celebrate Winry's birthday with her." Ed rolled his eyes and drifted into an indignant mutter. "And this time she won't be able to beat me up for needing automail repairs. I'm in top shape – did my maintenance and everything." He sighed and flopped into the nearest couch. "I'll just wait here for you, Colonel. I'm sure Grumman won't keep you that long."

It was Mustang's turn to roll his eyes and mutter. "You'd be surprised." He eyed his subordinate warily. Ed had already closed his eyes and looked ready to take a nap. Well, at least he couldn't break anything if he was asleep. "Very well. Just don't cause any trouble."

Ed cracked one eye open to peer at the Colonel with a smirk. "Me?"

Mustang scowled. "Yes, you. Keep an eye on him Lieutenant."

"Of course, Sir."

At 1520, Edward Elric fell asleep on the couch in Colonel Mustang's office.

At 1600, Warrant Officer Falman completed his work for the day and left. Master Sergeant Fuery followed soon after.

At 1700, 2nd Lieutenant Havoc left and returned with a tray of food from the mess hall which he and Breda ate quickly before returning to their dwindling stacks of paperwork.

"Chief must be really tired if he didn't even wake up to the smell of food." Havoc commented before diving back into his work. He was almost done and needed to finish quickly if he was gonna be on time for his date.

At 1745, Havoc and Breda both finished their work and bid goodbye to Lieutenant Hawkeye.

At 1800, Hawkeye woke Fullmetal.

"Wha? Is the Colonel back?" Ed asked, stifling a yawn. He flipped open his pocket watch to look at the time, surprised by how late it was.

Hawkeye smiled apologetically. "No, but it's late. You should head back to the dorms and get some proper sleep."

Ed shook his head. "If I leave now, I'll have to come back tomorrow and we'll miss the train. We promised Winry we'd come this year." He stood up and stretched. "Besides that nap did me some good. Not really tired anymore."

Hawkeye considered the boy for a moment. He did look far more refreshed than he had when he first walked into the office. "Alright." She finally replied. "But I'll be leaving now. The rest of the team is gone already too so I'm trusting you to stay out of trouble on your own."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks Lieutenant. Nice to know somebody trusts me." His words were sarcastic but his tone was teasing and his grin belied his offense. The Lieutenant had always been his favorite. "Don't worry. I've gotta get started decoding these notes anyway." He pulled the old journal from a pocket in his coat, then sat back down on the couch.

The Lieutenant smiled. "Alright. I'll leave you to it then. Good night, Edward."

"G'night."

At 1830, Edward stood up and tossed the journal down in frustration. "This is useless – another dead end." It wasn't that the notes were hard to decode. It was actually very easy. But upon figuring out the sequence, it became very clear to Edward that the book had nothing to do with the Philosopher's Stone or human transmutation. Most of what he'd read so far was just basic notes on elemental alchemy, nothing new to the Fullmetal Alchemist. In other words, there wasn't much point in continuing to read it.

Also, he was hungry.

At 1900, Ed returned to the office, carrying a laden food tray in one hand and a sandwich in the other. The majority of the food was finished within five minutes and the boy sat back on the couch, still munching on some fried potatoes crisps.

"Sheesh, where is that Colonel? He's been gone for hours." Absently, Ed reached for the abandoned journal and flipped to a random page with an exaggerated sigh. "Might as well keep reading. Not like I've got anything better to do."

He read for several minutes, not finding anything particularly worthwhile or interesting. But upon turning the next page, a small symbol caught his eye.

"Hmm? Now, why does that look familiar?" he wondered. It was a lizard… no. Not a lizard – a salamander. His eyes flew open wide. "That's where I've seen it before. It's flame alchemy!"

Edward was surprised. Never, in all of his research, had he stumbled upon any notes pertaining to the manipulation of fire through alchemy. As far as he knew, there weren't any in existence, or else they were heavily guarded by the Flame Alchemist himself. He'd asked once, if the Colonel could teach him a bit or at least show him the notes so he could learn on his own – because in spite of how annoying Mustang could be, Ed had to admit that his flame alchemy was really cool – but the bastard had shot him down and wouldn't even consider the idea.

Interest suddenly piqued, Ed read through the section quickly, then went back and read it a second time, and a third. The notes mapped out the basic theory behind flame alchemy – the elemental break down of fire and how it might be controlled. It clearly wasn't enough to master the elaborate conflagrations the colonel directed, but it was definitely a start and the young alchemist found himself itching to try it out.

Of course, he'd have to start with a spark. Havoc probably had a lighter in his desk. And he'd need to draw a transmutation circle. He didn't feel confident enough to try it for the first time with his usual clapping technique. He quickly searched his pockets for some chalk and then rolled his eyes. He hardly ever carried chalk on him these days. But the Colonel was sure to have some.

Hurrying around the desk he pulled open a drawer and riffled through some papers, being careful not to noticeably disturb anything. Not finding what he needed, he closed the first drawer and opened another.

He froze when he saw the gloves lying within. Clearly marked with the Flame Alchemist's personal transmutation circle, the spark producing gloves stared harmlessly up at him from their place next to Mustang's personal firearm. Hawkeye would likely be furious that the Colonel left his office without it but the gun was of no concern to Edward.

The gloves however…

Ed didn't think twice. Why bother drawing a circle and tracking down a lighter when he could just use these. He was certain he could activate the array and, while he wasn't the best at snapping, he could manage well enough to get a spark. With the knowledge he gained from the notes, he could easily create a small flame – nothing too big, not the first time anyway.

With more practice though… He grinned wickedly with the thought of showing Mustang up at his own game. His mind conjured up the image so clearly – Roy Mustang, The Flame Alchemist, staring in shock and horror as Ed blasted away the enemies of the state as the newly named Firemetal Alchemist! … no… FullFire!... okay, forget the name!

_I'm proud of you, Fullmetal._

The thought came to him unbidden and accompanied by a new set of images – Roy Mustang and Edward Elric, fighting side by side – Flame and Fullmetal, saving the day – The Colonel, with a hand on his shoulder, smiling, saying those words…

"Whaaat! No! That's not what I…" Ed hit himself in the head as though to banish the images from his mind. "I don't want him to… I don't care! Stupid… Idiot Colonel."

He snatched up one of the gloves in frustration and shoved it onto his left hand, still muttering. "This isn't for him. It's in spite of him. I'll show him. He's not that unique."

He stared at the glove for a moment then took a deep breath to clear his mind. He had to focus if he wanted this to work. He ran over the chemical breakdown again in his mind. _Carbon dioxide, dihydrogen monoxide, oxygen, nitrogen – all of which are drawn from the atmosphere and a spark starts the reaction._ "Alright, I got this."

Pressing his thumb against his middle finger in preparation, he focused on activating the array on the back of his hand and started a silent countdown. _3… 2… 1!_

At 1957 hours, the Fullmetal Alchemist snapped his fingers and the Flame Alchemist walked through the door.

It wasn't the snapping sound that alerted Colonel Mustang to the problem. It was the horrendous, assaulting, and all too familiar stench of burning flesh.

He saw Fullmetal for barely a moment before the boy crumpled to the ground behind his desk, clutching his injured wrist. It only took a moment for Roy to figure out what was going on. His eyes flew open wide and he race around the desk to where his subordinate sat with his left arm cradled against his chest, his chin tucked down, and his eyes clenched shut in obvious pain. On his left hand, one of Roy's own gloves stood out in stark white next to the harsh red of his already blistering wrist.

Mustang's first instinct was to berate the boy, but he shoved that aside for the moment and reached for Edward's hand.

"No! Don't!" Ed pushed his arm away.

Roy frowned. "Fullmetal." He said sternly.

"It's fine! I'm fine! I don't need your help!" Edward made as if to stand up but Mustang put a hand on his shoulder to keep him down.

"Fullmetal, let me see your hand." His tone of voice left no room for argument.

The boy looked up at him warily. Mustang was clearly furious. Ed knew he was in a lot of trouble already and it would only be worse if he continued to disobey. Gingerly, he released his left hand and allowed the Colonel to take it.

Gently, Mustang turned his subordinate's hand, inspecting what he could see of the wound. The glove would need to be removed before he could treat the burn. Without looking, he reached into one of the drawers of his desk and withdrew a small blade. He quickly cut through the glove, grateful that he had plenty of spares. Most of the fabric came away easily but one small part had become seared to the flesh so that it had to be cut away.

Despite the obvious care his superior was taking, Edward couldn't hide his wince as the side of the blade touched his tender skin. "Shit, that hurts!"

"Of course it hurts, you idiot. What were you thinking?" His words were harsh but his tone was soft. Somehow, that made it seem worse. Ed hadn't felt so small since after his failed human transmutation. How could he have been so stupid? He'd messed up, and worse! He'd messed up in Mustang's office and now Mustang was here helping him when he should be yelling at him or beating him black and blue for stealing his glove. So why was he…?

"What are you doing?" Ed's eyes wide as he saw the Colonel pull the other glove out of his desk and slip it onto his own hand. Edward tried to pull his arm away, suddenly fearful that this would be the punishment for his crime, but Mustang held firm and, instead of snapping, brought his gloved hand to rest gently on the burnt flesh.

Ed hissed sharply. "Don't! That hurts!"

"Just hold still, Fullmetal." The Flame Alchemist then activated the array, causing a blue light to cast an eerie glow about the room.

Ed frowned, then turned his attention to his wrist which suddenly began to feel somewhat better. Not healed, just better – if only slightly.

The glow died down and Edward snatched his hand back to inspect it, thoroughly confused. The skin was still red and blistered and the pain was still there but it was different. It didn't feel like it was still on fire. In fact, it felt… almost cool. "What... what did you do? Was that… medical alchemy?"

But that couldn't be. The Colonel had never used medical alchemy before and there were certainly plenty of opportunities. Not only that, but the array on his glove was the same one he always used. So then, what…?

Mustang scoffed as he stood to rummage through another drawer in his desk. "Hardly. I used flame alchemy to draw out the heat so that it doesn't continue to damage your skin. It's faster than ice water, safer too."

Ed blinked and then nodded. He had no idea that flame alchemy could be used that way – or that burns could continue to damage your skin after the fact, for that matter.

The Colonel returned to his side with a roll of gauze and a small container. "What's that?" Ed asked.

"Burn ointment." Mustang opened the container and peered inside with a frown. "Damn. I'm almost out. I'll need to get more after this." He dug two fingers into the bottom of the cup and came out with a small glob of ointment. Taking Ed's hand, once again, he gently applied the gel to his burns.

Edward winced at first but then relaxed as the medicine started to take effect. Mustang worked silently, focused as his fingers continued to massage the boy's wrist, rubbing the ointment in deeply. He applied a second and third coat and the soothing motion, combined with the relaxing scent of the gel coaxed Ed into a somewhat drowsy state. He was brought back into awareness, however, as he was struck by a sudden thought.

"More? Why do you need more? It's not like many other people are going to be playing around with your gloves in your office. What do you keep that stuff in your desk for anyway? The first aid kit is next to the door."

Mustang glanced at him, then back at his work. He finished applying the ointment and began wrapping the wrist in gauze. He remained silent for a moment, considering, and then replied, "I keep it there for myself, Fullmetal. It's easier to have my own supply than to constantly restock the first aid kit. You'll need to change this in the morning. Don't touch the blisters and don't scratch."

Edward nodded and pressed on. "But… what do you need it for? It's not like you go around burning yourself all the time."

Mustang frowned deeply and released his hand. Replacing the cap on the now empty container, he stood and moved to the trash can. Ed stood up as well, his wrist feeling much better, and he eyed the door, wondering if maybe he could escape before the lecture started.

"Flame alchemy is very dangerous, Fullmetal." He spoke sternly and Ed winced. There was no avoiding it now. He braced himself for the harsh words to come.

But they didn't. Mustang was quiet for a moment and when he did speak, his voice was low. "I burn myself every time snap my fingers."

Edward gasped, hardly believing it was true or that Mustang would actually admit to it.

"Not badly, of course – usually just a singe of a small blister, easily treated. I'm used to it." He turned to direct a glare at his subordinate, his voice suddenly seething with anger. "But it just shows how unpredictable and dangerous flame alchemy can be! I've been studying it for years and I still can't fully control it, so what in the world made you believe that you could just try it out for yourself and not expect to get burned? Honestly, Fullmetal, I thought you, of all people, would know better than to play around with alchemy you don't fully understand!"

Edward winced and Roy almost wished he could take back his last words. It was a low blow, especially considering all that Ed had lost the last time he decided to try a transmutation that was beyond his abilities. But he needed to make the boy understand. He could have been killed. Honestly, Roy was surprised that the burn turned out to be so minor. It could have been much worse. Hell, he could have burned down the entire building!

When he'd walked in the door, and smelled that horrendous scent, and seen his young subordinate collapse behind the desk – he'd assumed the worst. That he'd been wrong, that Ed was relatively fine, was nothing short of a miracle – that or Fullmetal was even more of a genius then he'd originally believed. To use flame alchemy without proper knowledge and understanding would have been a death sentence for anyone else – and likely for all within the vicinity of whomever tried it. It was simply too volatile.

So he needed to somehow get it through the boy's thick skull that he couldn't keep taking such stupid risks. He couldn't randomly decide to do dangerous things just for fun. He was smart, yes – a damned alchemic prodigy – but that didn't make him all-powerful. It didn't make him invincible.

And right now, standing there with his arm cradled against his chest, his shoulders hunched, and his eyes nervously scanning the ground, he looked anything but invincible. He looked vulnerable and every bit the thirteen year old boy he was. But he was alive – alive and relatively unharmed. And, upon acknowledging this fact, Roy felt his adrenaline drain.

Suddenly lacking the energy to stand, he slumped onto the nearby couch. "Explain, Fullmetal… just… explain."

Ed glanced up nervously, unsure if the worst was over or if this was just a reprieve. He'd have to explain quickly to avoid another tongue lashing. The Colonel's last words hurt, as they were surely meant to. Ed didn't need any reminders of his past mistakes. Hopefully he could fix his most recent one without much more fuss.

He sighed heavily. "I…" He wasn't sure where to start but he took a deep breath and plowed forward. "Look, I'm sorry I took your glove. It was stupid. I just thought… I thought I'd be able to…" He trailed off. This was harder than it should be.

"So, what? Have you just been waiting to be left in my office alone so you could steal my gloves and try flame alchemy for yourself?" Roy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Edward gaped at the accusation. "What? No! I didn't plan this! It just… sort of, happened. I wasn't even gonna use the gloves. I was looking for some chalk to draw the transmutation circle. I saw the gloves and I figure it would be easier so…"

Roy sat up straighter and stared at the boy. "Wait. You were going to try flame alchemy without my gloves? With your own array?"

"Well, yeah. But – "

"You were going to activate a free hand array you came up with on your own without doing any research first?"

"No! I'm not stupid! Of course I did research. I read through the notes three times before I even thought about trying it."

Mustang sat back, surprised and confused. "Notes? What notes?"

"The notes from the journal Al and I found in Giribaz. I didn't get that far in my report before you left but since I was waiting I figured I'd go ahead and read through them. The code was easy enough to crack but turns out it doesn't have any information on the Philosopher's Stone after all. I figured it was completely useless until I found the section on flame alchemy. The theory seemed sound and I understood it well enough so I thought I'd give it a shot."

"Where are the notes?" Roy looked around and then spotted the worn book lying innocently on the couch next to him. He picked it up and flipped through it, searching for the section Ed mentioned.

Edward came over and sat down next to him, sensing that most of the danger was gone. "It's near the back. Page eight-seven." Mustang nodded and opened to the correct page. They both sat in silence for several minutes as he read.

Fullmetal was right about the code. It was almost elementary. Roy was able to translate it easily, without additional paper. As for the flame alchemy notes – they were fairly accurate. Granted, they weren't nearly as advanced as the theories his own master had compiled, but they were a good start.

"When was this written?" He asked, turning the book over to search for a date. There was none.

"The book keeper said it was probably about two hundred years old. Didn't know who wrote it. Sold it to me for really cheap. No one else had ever been interested."

"Hmm…" Roy flipped through a few other sections, noting that it covered the basics on most other forms of alchemy as well. If it was the author's intention to cover all of the basics, it would make sense to include something on flame alchemy as well. This alchemist was likely skilled in all forms of alchemy, though a master of none – a jack of all trades, so to speak. Of course this would be before flame alchemy fell into complete obscurity. Roy's own master had started from scratch. It was his belief that all knowledge of the dangerous art had been destroyed long ago. That this journal had remained in existence only to he found in a backwater country book store, was nothing short of incredible.

Still, Roy knew he couldn't allow this journal to fall into the wrong hands. He would have to keep it – perhaps destroy it. He would decide later. For now…

"So what did I do wrong?"

Roy looked quizzically at his subordinate.

"The transmutation - it should have worked, unless the notes are wrong – and I don't think they are – so I must've messed up somehow. I just can't figure out where I went wrong."

The Colonel looked at Ed and then back at the notes. The notes were correct as far as he could tell – rudimentary but correct. If Fullmetal followed them correctly which, being Fullmetal, he almost certainly did – the transmutation should have worked. He glanced back at Edwards arm, thinking again, of how bad it could have been and of how bad it wasn't. His own first attempt at flame alchemy had turned out much worse.

The thought made him blink in sudden realization. His own first try had been worse. That meant…

"Nothing."

"What?" Ed looked up, having given up on receiving an answer.

"You did nothing wrong. Your transmutation was correct."

Fullmetal's eyes flew open wide and he held up his bandaged wrist. "But… I burned myself."

Roy nodded. "Yes. And I already told you that I burn myself every time I snap my fingers. I've gotten much better at it of course and the burns are rarely severe anymore, but when I first started out I usually ended up with burns far worse than the one you're sporting now. I still have a few scars from that time."

Edward stared as the realization struck him. He'd done flame alchemy. He hadn't messed up. The burn was just part of the learning experience. He opened his mouth to reply but the Colonel cut him off.

"Flame alchemy is dangerous, Edward. It's unpredictable and volatile. It cannot ever fully be controlled. It can be an incredible and powerful tool, but it must be treated with respect and a certain sense of healthy fear. Without that, it can over power and destroy you."

Ed nodded, for once completely listening to his superior. The burn on his arm was proof enough the what the Colonel said was true. Still… "Does that mean you'll teach me?" he asked hopefully.

There was an idea. He'd never had an apprentice. If anyone was capable of learning flame alchemy, it would certainly be Edward Elric. The boy was already brilliant and he'd managed to grasp the basics in less than an hour. But then, what would this country do to the boy if he learned flame alchemy on top of everything else he could do? Flame alchemy was primarily used for destruction. It was a weapon. His experiences in Ishval had proved how far the country would be willing to go with that kind of power. They had turned him into a killer. 'The Hero of Ishval,' indeed.

That wasn't Fullmetal. Ed wasn't a killer. He wasn't a destroyer. He was a creator. He built things. He helped people. He worked hard to fix his own mistakes and wouldn't let anyone do it for him. There was so much he could do. He didn't need flame alchemy.

Mustang shook his head. "No." he said firmly as he stood, taking the journal with him and carrying it to his coat which was hanging by the door. He shove the book deep into one of the pockets, intending to take it home and keep it safe – or else to burn it.

"But –" Edward stood up to follow him.

"No, Fullmetal." He took his coat off the rack and put it on. It was far too late to still be at the office.

"But you just said I could do it. You said I did better than you did! Why shouldn't I learn?"

Ed was right in front of him. He'd be shouting in his face if he was a little bit taller. Roy could help but smirk at the thought. He took a step back and looked the boy in the eye. All of his former vulnerability was gone. His eyes were alight with the fire of determination – the same fire that Roy had seen two years ago in Risembool.

The Flame Alchemist smiled and placed a hand on Edward's shoulder. "Because you don't need it, Fullmetal." Then, he turned around and left the room.

Edward stared after him.

The words didn't make any sense – but the way he said it… it was almost like he was saying something else.

At 2100 hours, Edward Elric gathered his red coat, turned out the light, and followed his superior out the door.


End file.
